"Rather in the way. She moaned, having failed in her mission to find her mother and her God. A couple of gilt straight-backed chairs only. . You did not find him, but did you find his pistol? In the room beyond the bookroom there—a big room where a table had fallen. They sat down in a covered pavilion that housed a grimy picnic table and a dingy fire pit. " This she did carefully, but inwardly commenting that he was still in the realm of strange fancies. But ——” A look checked him. Why? While the front of his mind was busy warning her not to fall into the hopeless miseries of underpaid teaching, and explaining his idea that for women of initiative, quite as much as for men, the world of business had by far the best chances, the back chambers of his brain were busy with the problem of that “Why?” His first idea as a man of the world was to explain her unrest by a lover, some secret or forbidden or impossible lover.
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